What If It's You?
by GoofyGal2008
Summary: Staring at the blank sheet of paper before her, she contemplated the choices she'd made and wondered just what she had let slip through her fingers. Slightly angsty collection of Fiesta songfics, post 5.07.
1. What If It's You?

**A/N:** I need a bit of a mental break from the stories I've been working on lately, so I've been listening to music and just letting ideas float around in my head. This is one that stuck and wouldn't go away, so I figured I'd put it out there and see what you all think. For right now, it's just a one-shot, but there is always the possibility that I may add to it if it gets a good response and I come up with something else to write.

In terms of the timeline, this piece picks up after 5.07 - I haven't seen 5.08 yet, so I'll just be ignoring whatever might have happened in that episode.

**Disclaimer:** Nope, I do not own CSI: NY. If I did, that definitely would have been Stella kissing Flack in 5.07. I also don't own and claim no rights to the inspiration for this piece - Reba McEntire's song, "What If It's You".

* * *

Stella stared at the blank page in front of her, her pen frozen in her hand. She wasn't sure what to write; hell, she wasn't even sure she should be writing anything. A near-death experience makes you want to say things, though…things she knew she couldn't say aloud…not to his face, anyway.

Sighing, she quickly wrote the day's date in the upper right-hand corner of the page. _There_, she thought. _So far, so good._ Putting the pen down, she contemplated exactly how to say what she would want him to know, if the time ever came for him to read this letter. Glancing across to her bookcase, she smiled as her eyes settled on a picture of them taken several years earlier at the department's holiday party. Their smiles shone brightly, their eyes dancing with happiness and she couldn't help but wonder what could have been if she'd just taken the risk then, before it was too late.

Feeling a brief rush of courage as she tore her thoughts away from the memory, she quickly picked up her pen and began to write…

_I've got something to tell you that I just can't say__,  
So I'm writing it down in case maybe someday  
Our lives take the turn down a road we can't see right now_

Although she meant every word that appeared on the page – and on some level, she did want him to know – this was not a letter she ever wanted him to see. No, these were words he would read only if her life took a turn she hoped would never come. She'd never understood why people wrote letters like these, even when they worked in the riskiest of jobs. That afternoon, though, standing by and watching a young widow's face as she'd read her late husband's words, Stella's perspective changed just enough to motivate her to return to her apartment and attempt to write one herself.

_I know you're happy, and I'm happy for you  
But since you found each other, I've been so confused_  
'_Cause I believe there's one soul on this earth that was meant for mine  
I was sent here to find_

Stella paused to wipe a tear from her eye. She'd never really considered her feelings until he'd gone public with his relationship with Jess a few months earlier. She couldn't deny that they seemed happy together, and in a way, it did make her happy to see him smiling again. Unlike his past girlfriends, she knew Jess would at least understand him, understand the pressures of his job. At the same time, though, it was perhaps precisely because they seemed to Stella to be such a natural fit that their relationship ignited a spark in her that she hadn't known she'd been ignoring. Certainly, she'd had many moments when she'd considered the possibility, but her logical side was usually quite good at pushing those thoughts back into the recesses of her mind. It would be too complicated, too messy, too difficult. If it were meant to be, it wouldn't be that way…wouldn't it?

_What if it's you? What if our hearts were meant to be one?__  
What'll I do, knowing that I'll never love anyone as much as I do love you?  
What if it's true? What if it's you?_

She wasn't sure where that little four-letter word came from, but it seemed to flow from her pen. As she stared at it, she realized that maybe it was true…maybe she really did love him. If it were true – if it wasn't just the adrenaline and emotion talking – well, what was she supposed to do then?

_If destiny called and I missed my cue__  
Do I get one more chance? Oh, how I wish I knew__  
I'll never again put my heart in the hands of fate  
If it's too late_

It was that chance that was killing her; the thought that maybe she'd overlooked the signs and passed right by the man she was meant to be with. She'd waited, letting the ridiculousness of fate take the lead, and she'd lost. Although she couldn't imagine herself ever feeling the same way with anyone else, if it were to happen, she was certain that that was one mistake she never intended to make again.

_What if it's you? What if our hearts were meant to be one?  
And what'll I do, knowing that I'll never love anyone as much as I do love you?  
What if it's true? What if it's you?_

She knew the questions were going to drive her insane if she pondered them for too long. That was another reason for writing them down, to put them out of her mind. She laughed dryly as she thought of how proud the department's therapist would be, especially after all the sessions Stella had spent complaining about the pointlessness of all those writing exercises.

_If I ever hold you, I'll never let go  
But if I never do, how I will know?_

Stella had no doubt that Jess would take good care of him, but would she know what she had? When she held him, would she know how lucky she was? Of that, Stella wasn't quite as certain. She would have known, she wouldn't have taken a single second for granted, but now she would probably never get the chance. Signing her name to the bottom of the page while she bit back a few more tears, Stella slowly folded it and tucked her feelings away inside a plain white envelope.

_What if it's you? What if our hearts were meant to be one?  
And what'll I do, knowing that I'll never love anyone as much as I do love you?  
What if it's true? What if it's you?_


	2. The Easy Part

**A/N: **So, as I hinted when I posted the original songfic, I have decided to continue with this. I've got an overall story concept for where I'm going with this, and it's giving me a nice little break from the latest chapters I've been working on for my multi-chapter stories. Right now, I'm seeing this story as a collection of songfics. They'll all be connected, telling the story of Don & Stella's relationship through my takes on different songs. Be warned, there will be a bit of angst in a lot of the installments, but I'm trying to keep them at least somewhat positive as well.

This second installment is based on a song called "The Easy Part" by Chuck Wicks. Can you tell I'm a country music fan?

* * *

Stella leaned heavily against the doorframe, her arms wrapped protectively around herself as she surveyed the bare room in front of her. The furniture was gone, sold to friends and strangers alike. The pictures that had adorned the walls had been carefully boxed up, stashed between the layers of clothing and linens in the boxes that now sat in the van waiting for her by the curb below. All that was left for her in this apartment, the place she had called home for the last year and a half, were two keys sitting on the empty kitchen counter.

_Sometimes love ain't enough  
And there's times when just giving up is alright_

Stella Bonasera was not a woman who gave up easily, so it tore her up inside that she couldn't stop feeling as though this decision meant that she was giving up on love. She'd rationalized it over and over again. She had a lengthy list of reasons that sounded absolutely nothing like giving up. She knew that this could be a good decision for her, a smart decision that had the potential to benefit her both personally and professionally. Despite all her rationalizing and reasoning, though, Stella knew that there was really only one reason that she'd made this decision, and it had everything to do with giving up.

_No matter how much you want it to work,  
Someone's gonna get hurt_

She had tried for months to make it work, to get to a point where she could interact with him without the pit in her stomach, without the sadness crushing her chest. There were countless times when she thought she'd finally done it, that everything was going to return to normal. Then something would happen – she'd see his gaze linger on his girlfriend, hear him talking to Danny about something they'd done that weekend, see his smile brighten just a bit when Jess walked onto a scene – and she'd be right back at square one. Stella had fought it, struggled with it, tried everything she could think of to learn to live with it, but she'd finally had to accept that no matter what she did, she was going to end up hurt.

_Sometimes it ain't about who's wrong  
And as bad as you want to hold on_

Stella had no doubt that the entire situation was her fault. If she'd only taken the chance when they'd both been free, if she hadn't stepped aside and let fate take the reins, then perhaps things would be different. Was she so wrong to have thought that taking their relationship further would have been a mistake? Was she wrong to have even thought that he might be open to taking that step with her? She supposed that now it wasn't important anymore; laying the blame wouldn't do her any good these days.

She wanted to change her mind. Despite the weeks that she'd spent convincing her friends and coworkers that she was making the right decision, she couldn't help the fact that her heart still belonged to him, and she wasn't sure that she could leave him without leaving it behind as well. Her heart ached as she looked around her barren living room, desperately searching for something to remind her of why she couldn't stay.

_The right thing to do is to get out  
Right now, before it's too late_

Rationally, Stella could easily explain why this was the right decision for her to make. It was clearly the best decision for her career, presenting her with an opportunity she was never going to find with the NYPD, not as long as Mac Taylor chose to continue running the New York Crime Lab. As much as she hated to admit it - he was, after all, her best friend - Mac's presence effectively formed a barrier to how far Stella could advance with the NYPD without venturing outside the relatively small CSI unit. It was even the best decision for the lab, especially given the current budget crisis. Although it would take time to adjust to having one less investigator, the elimination of her salary from the budget saved the lab enough money that there would be no need for Mac to choose between sacrificing equipment or lab personnel for at least another year.

She knew, though, that the real reason she thought that this was the right decision had nothing to do with her career or the lab's budget. No, if she were to be honest with herself, Stella would have to admit that if it weren't for the fact that she had felt as though she had to do something – anything – before she lost herself completely in her feelings, none of this would be happening. She wouldn't have even thought about returning the out-of-the-blue phone call from Los Angeles. She might have glanced at the manila envelope that was delivered via registered mail four days later and been flattered by the generous offer, but she would have eventually tossed it into the trash. There would have been no convincing Chief Sinclair to release her from her NYPD contract, no tense confrontation with Mac when she revealed her decision to him. Stella never would have considered the possibility of a life away from New York and the NYPD had it not been for the unacceptable way her personal life was suddenly intruding on her professional one.

_Yeah, the hardest part of leaving is picking up the keys  
And finding the nerve to start that car_

Stella never would have imagined that one simple act could be so difficult. Yet as she stood there in the middle of her empty apartment, it took all the strength she could muster to pick those keys up off the counter, walk down the stairs and climb into the rented U-Haul van waiting for her by the curb.

As she slipped into the driver's seat, Stella unconsciously reached to secure her weapon at her side. She sighed when it dawned on her that for once, there was nothing sitting in the holster resting on her hip and no badge waiting in her pocket. The whole team had gathered outside Mac's office the previous afternoon to watch her turn them in, as though they hadn't quite believed she was actually going to go through with it. She tried to take some comfort in the fact that she knew it was only a few days until she arrived in Los Angeles. In less than a week, she'd have a weapon back in her holster and a new badge ready in her pocket. She just tried not to think about the fact that for the first time in her career, that badge wouldn't be issued by the NYPD.

_The first night is the longest,  
You're waking up alone _

Stella was somewhat surprised that she'd even managed to make it through the first night. Granted, she'd been waking up alone for years, so it shouldn't have been that much of a shock to her system as she lay awake in the small motel room she'd rented for the night. Still, there was something almost bone-chilling about the feeling of emptiness that seeped through her as she stared aimlessly at the ceiling, knowing that she would probably never again spend any length of time in the place that had been her home her whole life.

More than that, though, every time she closed her eyes, her dreams were haunted by the image of his eyes over the past week. When she'd announced her imminent departure not just from the lab but from New York City in general, Don hadn't argued with her like the others had. He hadn't tried to convince her that she was wrong and he hadn't seemed to care about any of her reasons. He'd simply looked at her that entire last week, staring as though he were seeing her for the first time, as though she'd just stepped into some sort of new light. It had shaken her resolve, forcing her to wonder if maybe there was some small chance he might actually return her feelings, but in the end, she knew that it just wasn't meant to be.

_And you find out how strong you really are  
But the rest is the easy part_

Stella hadn't been sure she was going to survive that first night, but deep down, she knew she owed it to herself to at least try. Before they had parted, Lindsay had told her to think of this as a chance to spread her wings, to test her strength as she left her comfort zone far behind her. The younger woman had warned her that the first few nights away from the only hometown she'd ever known would be hard to get through. She had promised her, though, that it would get better. Stella only hoped that Lindsay wasn't mistaken.

_Before long, the phone's gonna ring  
And you'll want to answer his call_

He called her every hour that second day, shaking her to the core every time she saw his name flash across that screen. It took everything she had in her to not pick up the phone, to hit the key that sent yet another call to her voicemail. She'd called Mac before leaving the motel, letting him know that she was safe and was now starting the next leg of her journey. She'd spoken with Lindsay, getting the latest updates on Danny's efforts to put together the perfect nursery. She'd answered without hesitation when Hawkes had called with a question about a case they'd closed a few weeks earlier, subtly slipping in a quick line about how much he was going to miss her before he'd passed the phone to Adam for a quick hello.

With Don, though, she just couldn't figure out what to do. There was a part of her that wanted to pick up the phone, that wanted to know exactly what it was Don wanted to say to her. That same part of her was convinced that she could handle hearing his voice, that she could have a simple conversation with him without tearing apart the resolve she'd spent so much time building up.

_But girl, don't have the same conversation over and over  
So let it be over_

The other part of her, though, knew exactly what he would say if she answered his call. She knew that they'd have the same conversation they'd had when he had dropped by after her last day at the lab, and she knew that hearing him ask her to stay one more time could very well be the one thing that would make her turn that van around and drive as fast as she could back to New York.

If she took that call, she wasn't going to be able to continue driving west. She knew that, no matter how much she wanted to hold onto the past, she had to let that part of her life end. She had to let her feelings die; she had to let it all be over. With those thoughts running through her mind, the fifth time his name appeared on her caller ID, she turned her phone off and forcefully tossed it into the glove compartment.

_The hardest part of leaving is picking up the keys  
And finding the nerve to start that car_

Every time Stella pulled the keys out of the ignition that day – when she stopped to fill up on gas, when she pulled over to get out and stretch her legs, when she pulled up to the tiny truck stop for lunch – she had trouble bringing herself to start the engine again. She knew that all it would take would be one quick phone call to Mac and everything could be reversed. If she knew her friend at all, she knew her gun and badge were still locked up in his desk drawer, resting atop her unfiled severance paperwork, waiting for Mac to be certain that Stella truly wasn't coming back. Convincing herself that she couldn't do that was more exhausting that she could ever have imagined.

_The first night is the longest,  
You're waking up alone_

It could very well have been her imagination, but as she climbed out of bed after her second night on the road, Stella couldn't help but feel that it hadn't been quite as difficult as the night before. Of course, she could easily attribute that the simple fact that she'd managed more than two consecutive hours of sleep that night. That alone gave her a brighter outlook when she finally slipped in behind the wheel of her van.

_And you find out how strong you really are  
But the rest is the easy part_

Still, with each hour that ticked by, with each mile that flew by in her rearview mirror, she felt as though things were changing. The determination that had slipped away over the last few weeks was gradually building itself back up. The confidence she'd been so desperately lacking in recent months was coming back in bits and pieces, slowly encouraging her to continue on toward what she was more and more sure would be her fresh start.

_There's an open road  
There's a life ahead_

Stella smiled slightly as she passed the small sign welcoming her to Arizona. Only one state left to cross through, and she was finally starting to feel as though maybe this hadn't been such a terrible decision after all. Rolling down the windows to let the warm desert air blow through her curls, she squinted into the sun as she slipped on her sunglasses and pressed just a bit harder on the accelerator as the van made quick work of the endless stretch of asphalt.

_But even though you can't see it yet  
Just take a chance_

Stella still couldn't imagine what it would be like, this new life she was heading towards. She couldn't see herself in a city without snow in the winter, investigating crimes with the ocean at her back. Despite the fact that she'd spent several years helping Mac run the NYPD Crime Lab, she felt a surprising about of nervousness at the thought that in Los Angeles, she'd be the one with her name on the door, the one making the decisions and running the teams. She was having a hard time accepting the fact that she was going to have to integrate herself into a whole new department, that she'd have to try to build herself a new family thousands of miles away from everything she knew and loved.

She wondered about her new life – about where she'd live, who she'd meet, what sort of car she might drive. Having spent her whole life in New York City, the closest Stella had ever come to her own car had been driving a department-issued SUV. She'd heard that it was necessary in Los Angeles, though, and she found herself lightly entertaining the idea of herself behind the wheel of some sporty convertible. As the final miles of her journey ticked by, she couldn't ignore the thought that this just might be her chance after all.

_And pick up your keys  
__Oh, and find the nerve__  
Yeah, to start your car  
The rest is the easy part_


	3. Tonight I Wanna Cry

**A/N:** I know, a huge delay in getting this up...I'm sorry! This chapter took a lot of work, even though it is short, because we're really switching gears here, taking a look at things through Flack's perspective. The song is Keith Urban's 'Tonight I Wanna Cry'. Enjoy!

* * *

Don Flack sighed as he shut the front door behind him and stepped into the dark, lonely apartment, shivering slightly as he flicked on the heater and tossed his coat onto a chair. As he had for weeks now, he left the lights out – there was no one there for him to see and no one to see him, so the effort just didn't seem worth it.

Moving into the kitchen and pulling open the refrigerator door, he reached for a beer but paused as his gaze fell on a forgotten bottle of wine near the back of the shelf. He smiled as he pulled it out and ran his fingers over the label, remembering the day she'd bought it for him after they had wrapped up the case of a murdered vintner. He'd taken every opportunity to make fun of the cheesy labels, saying that no real man would ever keep a bottle like that in his home. So naturally, Stella had just had to buy him an entire case of the stuff. And, of course, because it had been a gift from her, he'd just had to keep it.

_Alone in this house again tonight_

_I got the TV on, the sound turned down and a bottle of wine_

Settling into a spot on his couch, he popped the cork on the bottle and clicked on the evening news, muting the volume so that the images flickered silently into the room. Taking a sip of his wine, he glanced up to see a reporter standing in front of a beachfront home, yellow crime scene tape in the background as the camera panned to capture a coroner's assistant escorting the body to a van.

Flack sighed as he allowed his mind to wander just a bit, wondering if she was inside that house, working that crime scene. It was obviously high-profile if it was on the news – as the head of the crime lab, she worked all the high-profile cases, if only to ensure that the investigation looked good for the media. He wouldn't have been surprised to hear that she was inside that house.

_There's pictures of you and I on the walls around me_

_The way that it was and could have been surrounds me_

_I'll never get over you walkin' away_

Flack didn't need to turn his head to see the photograph that hung on his wall, but he found himself gazing at it anyway. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, something that had sent shockwaves through his body in a way he hadn't ever felt before that moment, and had only once felt since then. They were both laughing at something, her eyes sparkling as she looked up at him. It was such an intimate moment, he was amazed that it had managed to come through so well on film. It had always made Jess uncomfortable to have it there – despite his protestations that he and Stella had never been anything more than very good friends, she still seemed threatened by his relationship with her.

It didn't really surprise Don that his relationship with Jess hadn't lasted much past Stella's departure. Sure, they'd had fun together, and in a way, she had made him happy. There was just something about her, though, that he couldn't move past, and it had taken Stella's removal from New York for him to realize exactly what it was – Jess wasn't Stella. It struck him as bitterly ironic that it had taken her leaving for him to see exactly what they could have had…exactly what they would have had, if only he hadn't been so damn blind.

_I've never been the kind to ever let my feelings show_

_And I thought that bein' strong meant never losin' your self-control_

Don was certain he knew at least part of the problem – his father had raised him to keep his true feelings to himself. On the few occasions that he had let someone in, life had taught him that keeping your heart to yourself was the only way to keep it from being hurt. He needed to be in control at all times – certainly, he was known for his fiery Irish temper, but when it came to the feelings that really mattered, those he kept closed up inside of him. Maybe if he'd been just a little freer with them, let himself let go just long enough to tell her how he really felt, she wouldn't be gone.

_But I'm just drunk enough to let go of my pain_

_To hell with my pride, let it fall like rain_

_From my eyes, tonight I wanna cry_

He wondered what he'd say if he could see her at that moment. Even with half the bottle of wine flowing through him, would he really have the courage to take that risk? He'd been too proud in the past, too unwilling to risk her rejection. Now he wiped a stray tear from his cheek as he contemplated the life he was left with, the regret hanging heavily in his heart as he could do no more than wonder about what could have been.

_Would it help if I turned a sad song on?_

_"All By Myself" would sure hit me hard now that you're gone_

_Or maybe unfold some old yellow lost love letters_

_It's gonna hurt bad before it gets better_

_But I'll never get over you by hidin' this way_

He couldn't exactly call them love letters; Don knew that. Still, they'd been exchanging letters since shortly after she moved. He supposed it was easier that way – voices revealed far too much, even on a long distance phone call. Neither of them brought up what had happened between them the night he'd gone to see her, her last night in New York, but if he read her letters closely enough, he swore he could hear the pain in her words. He kept each one in a box, neatly tucked away where only he could find them.

She'd written to tell him she was sorry he'd broken up with Jess. He couldn't help the stabbing pain in his chest when she'd instructed him not to dwell on it for too long, not let it get him down. If only she knew – if only he could tell her – that it wasn't his ex-girlfriend that had him down. If only he could find the words to make Stella see that it was her…that it had always been her. It wasn't the memories of the nights he'd spent with Jess that kept him on this couch, holed up in his darkened apartment night after night. It was the single memory of the night he'd spent with her; one night that he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to get over.

'_Cause I've never been the kind to ever let my feelings show_

_And I thought that bein' strong meant never losin' your self-control_

He knew he'd screwed it up. All she'd needed was to hear him say those three little words. Three words, and he could have kept her with him in New York. Three words and she wouldn't be three thousand miles away from him. All he had to do that night was tell her it meant something; tell her it hadn't been a mistake; tell her that she was the one he pictured when he thought of his future. But no, he'd been too stubborn, too confused, too…too something, to let her know. And now, well, now it was too late. She was in Los Angeles, starting over without him. And he was still in New York, alone with his pain, unsure he was ever going to truly get over her.

_But I'm just drunk enough to let go of my pain_

_To hell with my pride, let it fall like rain_

_From my eyes, tonight I wanna cry_


End file.
